


Rope and Black Leather

by jolyful



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Crack Pairing, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolyful/pseuds/jolyful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luther takes a significant and almost creepy amount of interest in Sam, who sort of starts going along with it and the situation just evolves from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Graveyard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanikaElfStone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanikaElfStone/gifts).



> I don't even know. Danika, I blame everything on you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam needs to burn some bones and Luther is simultaneously very helpful and very unhelpful.

Fully decked out with shovel, salt, petrol, and lighter, Sam Winchester lit each head stone in turn with his torch. Shadows danced as the beam of the torch moved. Despite the calmness of the night, nothing seemed still. At last the torch swung by a gravestone that appeared to bear no name. Sam leaned closer, rubbing off some lichen, and saw the name George D. Ellison engraved there. He balanced the torch on the head stone to light the area and started to dig.

It was slow going. Ellison had lived a long while ago, his spirit tormenting people for centuries. The ground here had become pretty compact. He hadn’t been digging for very long before he felt sweat on his forehead. Straightening to wipe it away, he spotted a lone figure a little way off, moving beneath the trees. He tightened his grip on the shovel and raised it threateningly as the figure approached at an inhuman pace. As it came closer, Sam squinted and he could just make out long dark hair and a jacket of black leather. Abruptly, recognition dawned.

_Not again._

Sam resumed his digging, resolutely ignoring how instinctively he had relaxed upon recognising the vampire. When he drew closer, Sam said, “You have got to stop stalking me, man. Seriously, it’s creepy.”

Luther didn’t respond, only held out a hand for the shovel. Sam wasn’t sure why he surrendered it without question, but he couldn’t find cause to regret it as he watched Luther remove the remaining soil from the grave, faster than Sam could ever hope to.

As soon as the shovel impacted the rotting wood of the coffin, Luther stepped back so Sam could climb down to locate the bones. He’d just found the skull, small and worm-infested, when he felt Luther brush against him as he joined him in the grave. There really wasn’t room for two down there and Sam was about to tell him so when Luther grasped his shoulders to turn Sam to face him and join their lips.

For a moment, Sam forgot where he was, his mind preoccupied by the kiss. He responded to Luther’s mouth automatically, biting at the vampire’s lower lip. Then he felt a worm wriggle across his hand and pulled back to flick it away.

“This is a morbid place to be making out,” he commented, extracting himself from Luther’s arms and climbing out of the grave. He picked up the bag of salt and can of petrol he’d left nearby and returned to the hole in the ground where Luther still stood staring up at him. “If you don’t move, I’ll have to salt you too.”

To his credit, Luther did move, but much slower than Sam knew he could. As soon as he was out, Sam gave Ellison a generous helping of salt, covered the base of the grave with petrol and used the lighter to, as Dean would put it, “torch the sucker”. He watched the flames rise and Luther came to stand passively beside him.

“Your stealth is slipping,” Sam told him. “I saw you coming from ages off this time.”

He turned his head in time to see Luther smirk, then suddenly the world was a whirl – green from the trees, orange from the fire, but predominantly black from the night – and next thing Sam knew he was sat with his back against a tree, hands tied together round the trunk. _Damn it._ How had he not seen this coming? This was Luther after all...

Said perpetrator stood before him, looking down on him. “I don’t need you knocked out to tie you up, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me Sammy,” he said automatically, flexing against the rope. Where had the rope even come from? “Look, can we not do this right now, I need to meet back up with Dean...”

Luther pouted. “Dean gets you to himself all the time.” He crouched, his lips inches from Sam’s ear, and said in a whisper that sent a shiver down Sam’s spine, “You’re mine now.”

The dancing flames lit the left side of Luther’s face leaving the rest in shadow, and Sam hated how it accented his attractiveness, hated how this was happening yet again and he didn’t even want it to stop. What would Dean say? He’d be furious; this sort of interaction with the supernatural was off limits. Then again, Dean had no right to talk. There was definitely something going on between him and Cas...

And then Sam stopped thinking because Luther’s lips were at his neck and he couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking about or why this might be a bad idea. As Luther moved to Sam’s mouth and lowered himself down to straddle his legs, this felt like a very, very good idea...

Sam’s breath hitched as Luther’s kisses got hastier. He tried to reach up and tangle his fingers in Luther’s hair and unintentionally moaned when the rope prevented this. Seeing him struggle fruitlessly, Luther chuckled, low and seductive. He put his lips back to Sam’s ear and proposed, “If I untie you, will you promise not to try to leave?” Hearing words brought Sam momentarily back to his senses. What was he doing? He couldn’t seriously be _enjoying_ this. Luther took his silence for refusal. “No worries, I prefer you this way,” he said, reclaiming Sam’s mouth hungrily. One of his hands was fisted in the plaid shirt at Sam’s back, the other clutched his leg.

It took only a few more moments before Sam felt his jeans tighten. _Crap._ This shouldn’t be happening. He shouldn’t be— he just wanted—

“I promise,” he gasped between kisses. “I promise.” Luther stilled against him, then the corners of his lips curled into the first real smile Sam had ever seen on him. He couldn’t help but mirror it. Luther reached to untie the rope.

“Oi! Get the hell away from my brother!” Dean came charging across the graveyard, the Colt raised and aimed, and then Luther was gone so fast Sam blinked and missed it.

“Sammy, you okay?” Dean was asking, getting out a knife to cut him free. Sam just sat there, dazed and speechless. “Sam?” Dean pressed, concern beginning to seep into his tone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” His pulse was still going way too fast.

Dean helped him up. “Car’s just outside the gate. I’ll get the petrol and catch up.”

Sam started over to the Impala and when he reached it, Luther stood there watching him. “You promised not to leave.” His posture was threatening, his gaze cold, but the shake in his voice showed he was insulted.

Sam turned to see Dean crossing the graveyard towards him, then looked back to meet Luther’s eyes. “Sorry.” The flicker of betrayal in Luther’s expression made his heart twist. “You know, you could always kidnap me again,” he suggested. That earned him a brief smirk, before Luther departed and Dean arrived.

“It’s open,” Dean said, getting into the driver’s seat. He fired up the engine and they were on the road once more. “Get some sleep, Sammy,” Dean ordered, and Sam leaned his head against the window and dreamed of rope and black leather.


	2. Bait

Even looking back, Sam couldn’t piece together the turn of events, it had all started so fast. One minute he was sitting in the Impala waiting outside a gas station for Dean, the next he was regaining consciousness, hands tied and eyes blindfolded. His first instinct was to blame Luther (although the blindfold was new – Luther liked to be able to meet his eyes). The vampire always found inconvenient times to steal him away, and Sam had kind of given him permission to do so the previous time they’d met. (He still felt mildly aroused remembering Luther pressed against him in that graveyard, but no one needed to know about that…) He soon concluded this wasn’t Luther though. Something didn’t feel right and, aside from wondering when Luther’s kidnappings had started to feel ‘right’, Sam knew he had to figure out what it was.

Soon, he heard voices and automatically tuned in on their conversation.

“He’s definitely the right one,” a woman with an unusually deep voice was saying. “We’ve heard tell the son of a bitch is already in the neighbourhood.”

“Nice work,” a man replied. His voice was rusty, as if he constantly needed to clear his throat.

The pair’s footsteps approached him as they spoke, and then Sam’s blindfold was removed. He cringed as direct sunlight hit his eyes for the first time in he didn’t know how long. As he waited for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, he heard the man say, “You sure he’s not a vamp too?” When the world finally swam into view, Sam could put faces to the voices. Both were thin and bony, particularly the woman, which made Sam want to look around for someone else because it was hard to believe a voice like that had come from such a spindly, fragile-looking woman.

However she stopped seeming fragile when she drew a gun from her belt and put it to his temple. “You try anything funny, I’ll put a bullet through your brains before your vampire boyfriend even gets here to watch you die.”

A glance around the room told him everything he needed to know: they were vampire hunters, and he was bait. Great.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said out of habit, even though denial never worked in these situations.

“No?” The woman took a small, crumpled photo from her pocket and showed it to him. “Funny, ‘cause this looks a hell of a lot like you.” It was black and white, taken in the graveyard that night, with Sam tied to a tree and Luther kissing him fervently. “I’d feel bad keeping a fellow hunter tied up, but it seems you like it just fine that way.”

“You don’t want to tie me up yet you’re okay with using me as bait? Yeah, you’re perfectly moral.” When the woman merely glared at him, he cleared his throat and continued, “He won’t come. This is so obviously a trap and he isn’t stupid, he’ll figure out what you’re doing.”

“And when he does, he’ll come anyway. Word is he’s unhealthily obsessed with you. How did you manage that, by the way? Make a vamp fall for you, now there’s a nice trick.”

“What?” Sam spluttered. “It’s not a trick, he just, y’know…”

“Just abandoned his mate for you?” Her eyebrow arched. “Whatever you did, it’s impressive, I’ll grant you. Vampires are supposed to mate for life, but somehow you managed to make yours forget that.”

“Luther isn’t _mine_ ,” Sam protested under his breath, but she still heard him and leaned closer to him.

“So you do know him by name. How sweet.” She was grinning widely, while the man beside her looked revolted. “Perhaps I’ll be kind and let you kiss him goodbye before I destroy him.”

“He won’t come.”

“Oh, he will. He’ll make the mistake of thinking we aren’t a threat. All vamps think they’re indestructible.”

“Not indestructible.” The double doors had parted and a sinister silhouette stood framed by them. “But certainly capable of beating your sorry asses.”

“You must be Luther,” the woman began, but by the time she got that far, Luther had her in a headlock, the man unconscious – dead? – on the ground.

“I swear, if you’ve harmed him, I will make you suffer.”

This wasn’t the voice he used around Sam. This was raw and unrestrained and, quite frankly, scary. As far as Sam could see, he was unarmed, but he was still far too threatening for the woman, who broke down instantly, wailing, “We didn’t touch him! Please, I swear, please don’t hurt me!”

All her tough talk had been just that – talk. “ _Pathetic_ ,” Luther spat out, wrenching her head round one eighty and letting her collapse at his feet, her neck at an impossible angle.

Then he was in front of Sam, their faces impossibly close, as he reached to free Sam’s hands. “Alright?” he asked urgently. “Are you alright?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sam snapped, harsher than he’d meant to. “Why does everyone always ask me that? You of all people know I’m used to being tied up.” He tried to keep his eyes fixed on Luther but they kept drifting away, across to the blank, empty expressions of his captors. “You killed them.” His throat felt tight.

“They kidnapped you.” He said it with such sincerity that Sam almost forgave him on the spot, and then he ruined it. “Only I’m allowed to do that.” A joke, at a moment like this. Sam was suddenly angry.

“You _killed_ them! In cold blood.”

“They weren’t exactly innocent, Sammy. There’s plenty of blood on their hands. And anyway, you kill people all the time!”

“Not _people_. We kill–”

“Monsters,” Luther snarled. “Like me. You know, you may act as if you forget, but you can’t fool me. I disgust you.” Sam tried to protest but Luther wouldn’t let him speak. “Don’t even try to deny it. You spurn all my kind, why should I be any different? Because I kiss you? If I sicken you so much, why don’t you just thank me and get out of here so I can enjoy some well-earned nourishment?”

Sam glared at him, and although the thought of Luther tending to his captors was not at all fine, he declared, “Fine.”

“Fine,” Luther echoed, moving away to give him space to leave. Sam straightened and rubbed his wrists, red where the rope had dug into them. Then he strode past Luther, determinedly not looking at the bodies on the floor, and left the vampire standing alone in his wake.


	3. Amends

Three months passed. It was the longest Luther had ever gone without showing up. Not that Sam was counting. Not that Sam missed him, or thought of him on a daily basis, or wanted to apologise. Nothing like that.

He hadn’t really expected Luther to stay away after their fight. Whenever Sam had got angry at him for all the forced kisses, Luther simply returned in a few weeks to see if Sam’s mind had changed. And gradually, it had. Sam couldn’t pinpoint a moment when he’d developed a certain fondness for the vamp, but now he admitted to it, if only in the absolute privacy of his own thoughts. He was beginning to worry he’d never see Luther again.

“Vampires,” said Dean, chucking a newspaper at him.

Sam shook his head in an attempt to clear it and tried to focus. “What?”

“Vampires,” Dean said again. “Has to be.”

Sam didn’t even bother looking at the front page. “Yeah, okay, fine, let’s check it out.”

“I did check her out.” Dean turned a chair round and sat down, the back between his legs. “What’s weird is that you didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean opened another newspaper and showed him the front page.

Sam cringed away and tried to cover the picture with the newspaper Dean had thrown at him. The attempt was futile as it too sported a full length image of a naked woman.

Dean watched in amusement. “Dude, what is wrong with you? She’s _smoking_.”

“ _Why_ are you showing me these? Thought you said something about vampires.” Had he only wished that?

“This is why you never get laid, Sammy,” Dean said with a feigned air of wisdom. “More interested in vampires than hot chicks.” When Sam made no comeback, he continued, “They’re the victims. This particular son of a bitch has a fetish – sexy blondes. Nice taste, but he’s doing the wrong thing with them when he gets them back to his place.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Any idea where ‘his place’ is?”

A map of the local area joined the naked women on the table. Dean had circled two abandoned barns just outside the town. “Could be either. Can’t be sure until we check them out. You take one, I’ll take the other?”

Sam was mildly impressed. “Since when do you bother with the research?” He suspected it had something to do with the blondes.

“Since always,” Dean declared smoothly. “C’mon.”

* * *

At the first of the possible sites, Dean armed himself from the Impala’s trunk and Sam shifted over to the driver’s seat, waiting for Dean’s thumbs up before hitting the accelerator. It was a two minute drive to the other abandoned barn. Sam parked a fair distance away and, having visited the trunk himself, turned his attention to the decrepit barn in front of him. It had surely seen better days. The walls and the roof were intact, which he supposed was all a vampire nest needed, but everything was rotting. He could have collapsed it easily, but that wouldn’t kill any vampires so he moved closer, machete in hand. He was about to enter when he heard voices and paused to listen.

“…messy. It’ll cost you to be so careless. If this continues, hunters will notice, and they will come after you.”

It was the voice Sam had been longing to hear for weeks, deep and menacing and comforting. _Luther._

“Hunters,” he heard a second voice scoff. “What can they do to me? I am in every way superior. They can’t touch me.” Sam realised that this was the attitude his captors had expected Luther to have three months ago. It was probably common in vampires, but they had been foolish to depend on Luther being no different.

“You underestimate them. You overestimate yourself,” said Luther, and the other vampire growled in response. “I’m trying to help you,” Luther insisted.

“I don’t need your help!” the other vampire snapped. “I’ll feed how I please, and if hunters come, so what? I’ll kill them, just like I’ll kill you if I ever see you on my hunting grounds again.”

Sam heard footsteps approach him. He tensed, raising the machete, and when someone unfamiliar appeared in the entrance, he put all his weight behind the swing that caused the vamp to fall to the ground, head separated from body.

Luther stood a few metres away, absolutely still, staring at Sam, who cleared his throat awkwardly as he stood over the dead vampire. “Um. Thanks for distracting him,” he tried, and Luther’s gaze hardened.

“He was one of mine,” Luther said roughly. “I turned him.”

“Then you should have taught him better or, you were right, hunters were bound to come after him.”

“Was killing him necessary? I could have taught him to be more subtle, he deserved a chance.”

Sam shook his head. “He would still be killing innocent people.”

“I kill people,” said Luther. “Perhaps you should get rid of me, too.”

Sam met the vampire’s dark eyes levelly. Luther may have been acting casually, but his gaze hadn’t left Sam’s face, not once, and Sam could see in his expression the same thing he’d been feeling for the past three months – longing.

“I don’t want to,” Sam told him quietly.

Luther’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? Why spare me?”

Sam paused, not sure what he was about to say or whether or not he should say it. Then it just came out anyway. “Because I like you.”

The corner of Luther’s lip twitched. “Close enough.” He took two long strides to close the gap between them and joined their mouths.

Sam instantly relaxed and everything that had seemed wrong for the past two months fell into place because this, this felt right. He brought his arms up and, for once not restricted by rope, was able to knot his fingers in the vampire’s long dark hair and pull Luther closer.

Then Sam’s phone went off. He automatically reached for it but Luther stopped him. “You’re seriously gonna get that?” he complained.

Sam freed his wrist from Luther’s grip and checked the caller ID. “It’s Dean,” he said, stepping back from Luther and accepting the call. “Yeah?”

“Hey man, nothing here, anything on your end?”

With Luther’s fingers tracing up his arm, he had to concentrate on keeping his voice steady. “Just one being deliberately lax. He’s dead.”

“Great job, Sammy, so listen, turns out this farm’s not so deserted after all, lovely couple still run it and their daughter is, well… Look after my car, I’ll meet you at the motel for breakfast t–” He was cut off by a female moan, then the line went dead. Typical.

As soon as the phone left his ear, Luther’s lips were there, laying kisses round his neck then moving back up to his mouth. Sam responded readily. He hadn’t felt this good in ages. This was also the first time his hands were free to explore Luther’s body, and he gladly took full advantage of this. Starting at the hair, Sam ran his hands down Luther’s back, relishing the shape of it.

As Luther backed him into the decaying panels of the wall, Sam felt the vampire’s muscles shift with the movement. Craving more contact, he slid his hands up the back of Luther’s shirt, rubbing across the bare skin. After a moment, Luther did the same, his hands pressed between Sam’s back and the wall. His lips never stopped, kissing fervently as if he feared Sam might disappear, and Sam realised suddenly that he had just cause to. After all, Sam had abandoned him in the graveyard after promising not to, and then they’d fought after Luther had rescued him…

Sam pulled away abruptly. “God, don’t stop,” Luther growled in protest. He had one arm round Sam’s neck, the other round his waist, and he held Sam securely to him. It was tempting to comply, but Sam had been waiting three months for a chance to apologise.

“I’m sorry we parted on bad terms last time,” he began hesitantly. “I have no right to blame you for killing when you have little choice, and when what I do is barely any better, and I understand if you were offended. Are you sure you’re okay with,” he indicated the two of them, “this.”

“Of course.” Luther reclaimed Sam’s mouth, not wanting to waste time talking. Desirous of closer contact, he pressed himself against Sam, which caused the fragile wall at Sam’s back to give way, sending him falling backwards. Luther landed on top of him, their eyes perfectly level.

Luther sighed in satisfaction as he shifted his position, the friction making Sam squirm beneath him. “I like this better,” he said. “Now I can forget you’re taller than me.” He leaned down, bit hard on Sam’s lower lip, and Sam let out an involuntary groan of pleasure. “You know,” Luther commented in his ear, “I have nothing against plaid, but right now I’d rather you weren’t wearing any.”

“I could say the same about leather,” Sam countered breathlessly. He pushed the jacket from Luther’s shoulders and made to toss it aside, but Luther caught his arm and salvaged the jacket, checking it over for dirt. Sam laughed. “Protective much?” Luther glared at him so he smiled back and suggested cautiously, “Motel?”

Luther helped him up and they made their way over to the car. Sam had to make an effort to focus on the road and not be distracted by the overly attractive vampire in the passenger seat. When they arrived, the motel parking lot was empty. Sam turned off the ignition. “I can’t believe we’ve managed to meet without you tying me up.”

“You sure about that?” Luther smirked. Sam frowned momentarily, then tugged his arm and realised it was tied to the steering wheel.

He groaned. “Fuck you, Luther.”

“Be my guest.” Luther was grinning broadly, soaking up the sight of Sam’s flushed face.

Sam surveyed the Impala uncertainly. “In here?”

“Yes.” Luther crawled over to breathe in his ear. “Right here.”

“Dean’ll kill us.”

Luther chuckled. “I’d like to see him try.”


	4. The Serious Relationship Thing

This time, Luther didn’t even wait three days. And he didn’t wait for Dean to bugger off either. He’d thought up a nice easy way to ensure his and Sam’s privacy.

Which was why when Sam emerged from the hotel room’s ensuite, he found Dean out cold on one of the beds. At first he thought, fair enough, Dean never got nearly enough sleep, but when he saw Luther he defaulted to the feeling of _there’s something wrong here but let’s roll with it_ that was becoming so familiar.

“Hey,” he greeted deliberately, trying to sound casual and hide the way the sight of Luther made his heart pick up speed.

Luther took a deep breath, as if nervous, but when he finally spoke it was without hesitation, like his words were rehearsed. “I wanted to do this whole serious relationship thing properly.”

Sam reigned in a snort. “Knocking out my brother is doing a relationship properly?”

“I think we should go on a date,” Luther ploughed on, not willing to admit that perhaps he could have found a more elegant way of getting Sam alone.

Sam was speechless for a moment. He would never have predicted something so _normal_ from the vampire. “Uh, yeah, sure, okay,” he agreed clumsily when he realised he should say something. “Sure, what do you want to do?”

Luther looked relieved, and Sam’s acceptance seemed to fuel his characteristic self-confidence as now when he spoke it was louder and more certain. “I hear visiting a restaurant is customary, so I have booked us a table.”

Sam hid his continued surprise with a grin. “You were confident I’d come.”

“Of course.” Luther matched his expression and leaned in for a kiss. Sam hesitated, glancing worriedly at Dean. Luckily he proved to be still unconscious, so when Luther’s lips met his, Sam gladly responded.

* * *

The restaurant Luther had booked had been chosen, Sam quickly decided, for its dull lighting and its convenient proximity to the hotel, rather than a relaxing or tasteful atmosphere. It was shabby and too loud, but Sam made a conscious effort not to be put off by this. After all, this was a date. It wasn't about the location, and it would be unfair to expect perfection on their _first_ date.

They found a table and ordered, all the while talking about nothing in particular, and Sam had to admit it was kind of nice. He rarely got the opportunity to pretend to be ordinary, to simply forget about the job, about everything. So despite the lack of tranquillity in the restaurant itself, Sam felt his muscles and his worries easing up.

The food arrived and Luther picked up his fork, but Sam made no motion to do the same. Instead he sat studying the plate in front of Luther. “Can you…” he began uncertainly. “Can you actually eat this stuff?”

Luther glanced between Sam and the plate before chuckling and putting a bite in his mouth. He could feel Sam’s eyes watching his jaw as he chewed, and then his throat as he swallowed. “You hunters really know next to nothing about vampires, don’t you? We used to be human, we’re not so much changed that human food will harm us. Of course we can eat it. But it doesn’t nourish us, only the blood does that.”

“Yes, of course,” Sam said quickly, looking away abruptly and attacking his own food. The blood was a touchy subject. One of the more disturbing parts of being with Luther was that most of the time Sam found himself forgetting that Luther wasn’t normal, that he wasn’t human. Most of the time, their relationship felt so natural, just as reasonable as his relationship with Jess had been, just two humans who liked each other. And then Luther would move too fast or say something that would remind him, always in that worryingly offhand manner, and it would hit Sam yet again exactly how far from ordinary Luther was. Torn between this knowledge and a curiosity to know more, Sam asked, “Can you even taste it, though?”

“Why would I bother eating it if I couldn’t?” Luther countered, stealing a forkful of Sam’s meal. “It does taste slightly different to how it used to, but I can’t tell if that’s because food has changed or I have. Regardless, your human stuff still tastes good – especially whiskey.”

Sam snorted at this, and changed the subject so he that he could go back to not thinking about vampires and the other things he hunted.

It was only when they ordered desserts that he realised Luther was glaring at the waitress, and it was only then that he realised said waitress was flirting with him. As soon as he noticed this, he felt tense all over again, and the restaurant all of a sudden was too loud, too intrusive. Maybe it was that he was constantly tired these days, maybe it was the whiskey Luther had insisted upon ordering, but somewhere along the line, Sam found a number written on his napkin and felt a delicate, female hand brush his shoulder, and then Luther stood up, angry and overprotective.

It happened fast and the restaurant was dim and Sam’s mind clouded by alcohol, so he barely remembered the order in which things happened, only that there had been a fight between Luther and a handful of the waitress’s tall, beefy cousins and in trying to get between them to break it up, Sam had received several blows to his head, which was now relentlessly throbbing.

Somehow, after Sam had thrown the money for their meal and the most generous tip he could afford onto the table, he managed to remove Luther from the restaurant and return to the hotel, where Dean was showering. Sam sat in angry silence on his bed, drenched in beer. Luther lay a towel over his shoulders and said apologetically, “I love you,” as if it explained everything, which it probably did.

“I hate you,” Sam countered irritably. Luther looked away in shame and Sam couldn’t bear that. He put his hand to the side of Luther’s face, turned his head gently back to face him, and pressed their lips together briefly. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean that. It’s just, I don’t think normal will ever work for us. But that’s okay, it doesn’t have to. Next time, we’re sticking to graveyards.”

Luther perked up, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lips. “Next time? I wasn’t counting on there being a next time…”

Sam felt a helpless surge of fondness and smiled weakly. “There’d better be a next time. You’ll have to do worse than that to get rid of me – and hey, at least you didn’t kill anyone.”

“Not this time,” Luther agreed pleasantly. 


End file.
